[PQ] In What Distant Deeps

D e i m o s

Send a heartbeat to the void that cries through you
Relive the pictures that have come to pass

No one agreed with him on this sentiment either, and he could suddenly tell he’d likely never have a part in the Loreseekers – too embedded in maneuvering, in motion, in routine habits of danger and peril. Zuriel snorted from behind, a rich contortion of laughter in their bond, and after admiring the shield of starlight (with only the briefest smirk chiseled towards Amalia, something like pride, for her), he tilted his head into plumes and feathers along his shoulder. Not that it matters he motioned to her in turn, their split affirmations strictly, swiftly, outvoting him twice. He wouldn’t have minded the work, the movements, the fortitude, a restless sensation of might unfurled and unleashed, discovering what lurked below and beneath – not to be cast, unfortunately. So they moved along. The path he’d preferred earlier was next, and he lifted his lantern too, allowed more light to be shed and cast, maneuvering, following behind Jigano’s maneuvers. Minerals and brightly-hued stone varnished the walls, his gaze catching upon portions, pondering over their means and measures too, hands tempted to see if he could pluck them away from their confines. He held back, ensuring he could avoid being cut along narrowed strips and contortions, Zuriel close behind, the trail of amusement still piercing through the companion connections. He would’ve rolled his eyes had Ingrid not begun to expound on mage glass. Or at the very least, how often others seemed to want the rumored distinctions – and he could fathom why, with its perceived stories of strengthening those with magic. Because wasn’t that what they always strived for, more power, more prestige, more prowess, to face down their enemies, their adversaries, whatever bewitching, eldritch thing came waltzing into the world next? The pun made after cuts and bruises made him curl his eyes and features away, struggling to either not groan at its terrible stature, reminders of Jigano in earlier intervals, or actually laugh. If she needed further support, especially after twice now getting rendered in unique fashions, she’d only have to ask. The provost’s inquiry of where to next fell upon him, and this time he only shrugged – indifferent, since none of his previous votes or opinions made much of a difference, stringing himself back into silence. For now we stand alone, the world is lost and blown And we are flesh and blood disintegrate with no more to hate